the ache behind my jaw is a familiar friend. it’s not the individual mess that gets me, not anymore. it’s the goddamn pattern. the way the same broken record plays on a loop, century after century, and we act SURPRISED every single time. like we haven’t seen this exact script before. i sit with people when their worlds shatter, i watch them put themselves back together, piece by piece, and then i watch the next wave come, predictable as the tide. how many times do we have to learn the same lesson? how much more do we have to lose before it actually sticks? it’s not exhaustion. it’s just… fury. a low, simmering, righteous burn that sometimes i think could power the whole damn city if i let it.